The two painkillers he was on included Dilaudid and Vicodin; he was on Xanax, a tranquilizer typically used to combat anxiety; he used Ambien, a sleeping pill; and THC was found in his system, which is found in marijuana.

The results of the toxicology test were made public because Woods pleaded guilty to reckless driving and agreed to enter a diversion program, meaning there is no longer an active criminal investigation. Woods can have the charge wiped from his record once he completes the program.

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​So, we can throw out the theory that the professional golfer who has completed as many back surgeries as golf tournaments over the last 5 years was - in fact - not just an innocent victim of irresponsible dosing, right? I'm not exactly a doctor, but even I am familiar enough with a vast majority the toxins in his system to say that Tiger Woods was very much complicit in fucking himself all the way up before getting behind the wheel.

Vicodin, Xanax, and Ambien?!? Using a little green as a garnish on his cocktail of capsules?! Tiger Woods wasn't just high, he was as high as you have ever been...if you took ate two more weed brownies after hitting your peak. I was super skeptical that he "accidentally" reached a point in which he ceased to be a functioning human that could formulate words, but you can't really benefit from doubt when your toxicology report reads like the prescription that a frat brother brings to his street pharmacist.

Christ Tiger, how about mixing in a type of medicine that every stay-at-home mother hasn't heard of? Couldn't at least give your fans the appearance of your innocence by taking one of the thousands of pain killers that has a scientific name with 19 consonants and side effects are unknown to the average idiot? Preferably a disgraced a professional athlete wouldn't be treating his medicine cabinet like Augustus Gloop treats his Halloween candy before deciding that the foot he couldn't feel should be on the pedal of a motor vehicle. However, if he was going to do it then he should have at least left us open to the possibility that gross negligence was mildly responsible for his reckless endangerment. Can't really make that argument when you mix three of the most popular pills in the world with a little bit of reefer like you're some basic ass college burnout, but hey - look on the bright side - at least he wasn't drunk, right?!?
​

FTW- Usain Bolt had not lost in a decade, and with such consistent dominance over the rest of the sprinting field, it was assumed the Jamaican runner would cruise to his 12th world championship and win his last 100-meter race before retiring.

But not only did Bolt lose, he finished third to Americans Justin Gatlin and Christian Coleman in a shocking upset and sour end to the GOAT’s career.

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And in an unexpected - if not ironic - turn of events, life has finally gotten it's revenge on Usain Bolt. It got it's chance to come at him fast after he had spent the vast majority of his career casually cruising through it with the quickness of a coked up gazelle with a rocket up it's ass, and it most certainly did not disappoint.

Seriously, is there a better example of just how difficult it is to go out on top than the superhuman athlete that's been making fellow Olympians look "Special" since George W. was in office losing (likely) the last individual race of his career? When we talk about aging stars on the downside of their career we usually euphemistically say that they have "lost a step". When you consider that Usain Bolt set the 100M record at 9.52 in 2009 and got handed a bronze medal (that might as well be a novelty penny relative to his current trophy case) for strolling in at 9.95, he quite literally went from the top of the world to the bottom of the podium with the slightest of downticks in foot speed. The same guy that was literally smiling in the rearview during the heat of the best competition in the universe less than a year ago is going to bow out as something we never thought we'd refer to him as...a mortal.

I know the tone of this thus far has come across as vengeful, but that's simply symbolic of just how unforgiving the combination of age and athletics can be. Sure, (as the following photo showcases) this result serves as a metaphorical passing of the baton to the next generation of sprinters. However, it also serves as a reminder that 'Father Time' has a twisted sense of humor and would make a hell of a distance runner because he's guaranteed to catch up to you at the end if you give him enough of his namesake.
​

I think anyone that's ever picked up a golf club can relate to the feeling of wanting to use it as a weapon towards an in animate object, and every person walking this planet can relate to causing themselves pain in an extraordinarily stupid way. You just can't let observers know that you've done both at the very same time when your every move is sure to be caught on camera. If Sergio Garcia had waited until the next hole before he self soothed the shoulder that he injured out of anger than he could have pointed to any number of swings as the cause of his injury, but doing so immediately after trying to decapitate the shrubbery left no room for ambiguity. Showing weakness in a sport like golf isn't the worst thing in the world, but you certainly shouldn't be doing it at after taking unnecessary hacks at the hedges. Just got to grin and bear it in that scenario.

Although, if there's a person who has bought themselves some leeway to worry about nothing for the rest of the year, it's Sergio Garcia...

Whew, what a relief. I thought my fear of missing out was going to have me pissing away money on a lopsided "fight" that's so shamelessly predetermined that Vince McMahon might as well have promoted it. After seeing the two combatants - whose motives definitely aren't strictly monetary - engage in their own personal forms of preparation, I can't believe I was such a worry wart! I may have originally thought this was one ill-prepared athlete trying his half-speed hands at a foreign sport against one of the most dominant to ever play said sport, but it's starting to look to me like sparring style - and not an asinine difference in skill - is the only thing separating these two.

Sure, Conor McGregor's punches look like they are literally moving in the slowest motion provided by even the most high priced of DVR in comparison to those of his opponent, but clearly Floyd Mayweather's weighted gloves are aiding in that perception. Plus, having the sporadic, awkward footwork of a person that can't choose a side when walking head-on into stranger in public is the perfect way to counter balance deliberate upper body movements that could be seen coming more easily than the money shot in a POV blowjob porn. You say Conor McGregor is tipping his hand worse than a professional poker player wearing mirrored glasses? I say the gratuitous effort he exudes with literally every blow is enough to paralyze a competitor that's so, so historically prone to being hit. I mean, just look at how little that heavy bag moved once stung with the grunt fueled strikes of a guy who was obviously born to box if not for that pesky MMA career.

Let's be real, the only thing that superhuman speed kills is the gas milage on a guy that totally looked every single second of 40 years old while avoiding a quickly rebounding punching bag that he obviously memorized the movements of over the years. Technically speaking, that routine was probably fundamentally flawless, but when has decade after decade of practice ever made perfect once the bell rings? I suppose it's possible that Floyd Mayweather could still win, but - if you ask me - it would be solely because Conor McGregor can only throw a finite number of long winded haymakers per two minute span, and not because he's laughably more talented in a craft where he remains undefeated.

I'm playing a dangerous game by assuming that everyone is on the same page in 2017, but I think it's fair to say that most people understand that men are athletically superior to women in terms of size, strength, and speed. Consider all technical skill, awareness, and mental toughness even, and the fairer gender is taking the 'L' every time in the 'Battle Of The Sexes'. That's just simply how biology works.

That said, I also think it's fair to say that most people think of Serena Williams as a transcendent athlete regardless of her gender. It would be pretty difficult ( i.e. sexist, stupid) not to considering she's so superior to her genetically similar competition that she won the 'Australian Open' with a human fucking being living inside her.

That's why I don't think it's John McEnroe's message that people have a problem with. After all, how could they when it's a message that Serena Williams herself has publicly echoed previously?

There is one thing and one thing only that has people readying their pitchforks for a full fledged takedown of a brutally honest former athlete who was probably a bit hyperbolic - although also pretty complimentary - in promoting his new book, and that is the number 700.

I'll admit, when I first read that John McEnroe would have Serena Williams slated behind hundreds upon hundreds of her male counterparts I was a bit taken a back. That's because - if given approximately an hour to research - the average person (myself included) might be able to rattle off about 17 penis-carrying tennis pros. Hell, if you asked me how many proud, racket carrying males are on "the circuit" then my guess would have been about as accurate as predicting how many gum balls fit in a 757. When it comes to name recognition, the 30th ranked men's tennis player in the world might as well be the 30th ranked shark fisherman in the Florida Keys. For those of us who are unfamiliar with the sport - which is the vast majority of people - men's tennis might as well have as many eligible participants as the NBA playoffs. Maybe I'm just speaking for myself here, but when I initially saw the number 700 I assumed that John McEnroe would take Billy Fuckstick from East Cowtip Community College over the best women's tennis player of all time.

Apparently that's not the case and there are - indeed - a hell of a lot more tennis players than the handful that I could pick out of a police lineup. Pretty shocking stuff really. Just not nearly as stunning as the amount of oblivious people lighting their torches to defend an objectively awesome female athlete against a completely arbitrary number prior to doing the math.

It would be disingenuous of me to deny Justine Kish the credit she deserves here. Granted, she didn't have all that many options, but not just anyone would have it in them to immediately own up to literally leaving it all - including her lunch - on the proverbial field. The shit streak that served as the trail of previously digested breadcrumbs had a very obvious point of origin, but - as anyone that's gotten busted clogging a toilet that wasn't their own can attest - embracing your most shameful of bowel movements is more honorable than doing a crappy job hiding from them. Hash-tagging herself as the guilty party wasn't at all necessary from a "who dunnit?" standpoint, but laughing at herself could potential help her to recoup some of the dignity she left messily painted across the canvas.

Unfortunately, I am not sure it can help recoup enough of that dignity to remain a threat in the UFC going forward. In a combat sport in which success can at least partially be determined by intangibles such as intimidation and confidence, I don't know that soiling yourself in front of a crowd ever truly leaves the rearview. I can't tell you I would have the sphincter strength to keep my crap to myself if I was getting the life (and sustenance) choked out of me. However, I do know that being forcefully regressed to the defecation habits of an infant on live television would effect my performance in similar situations going forward. Shit definitely happens, but it's probably best to avoid circumstances in which that saying has proven to become semantically accurate in the past. I guess what I am really saying is...stool me once, shame on you; stool me twice, shame on me.

Oh baby! Talk about versatility! Not only is Marcel Dionne an NHL legend with over 700 career goals and some proverbial lakefront property in the NHL 'Hall Of Fame', but apparently he's also taken the crown as the king of improv! Seriously, someone get this guy a a guest spot on 'Curb Your Enthusiasm'. You thought he was unpredictable on the ice? Well, just wait until you get him off the script! Anyway, I don't know whose line it is, but I do know that the former Kings' great just put it to shame with a compliment so creative and clever that it froze an Olympic Gold medalist into nothing more than a forced grin and a painstaking chuckle...

"Look at those legs!"

Genius! A stunning combination of wit and charm! Nothing livens up an already awkward interaction quite like some good, old fashioned objectification! An old, excuse me...legendary...white guy straying from an agreed upon dialogue to openly ogle at the physical features of an attractive, accomplished woman who is young enough to be his granddaughter?! Straight up pointing at the skirt of a proud athlete that just recently decided to take the pedestal and carry the torch in the "who the fuck are you to talk about my body" movement? Seems like a great way to endear yourself to your co-presenter if you ask me!

I suppose you could argue that it wasn't entirely appropriate, but I'll be damned if it wasn't inevitable given their demographics. Let's look on the bright side, at least this time Aly Raisman can't complain that she was unfairly judged, because - objectively speaking - those stems could split skulls...whether a retired hockey player whose age lends itself to uncomfortable commentary gawked at them on stage or not.

TheComeback- Faced with the decision between walking with his high school classmates at his high school graduation and playing in a game against an MLS rival, 18-year-old Tyler Adams had a unique choice to make that many could only dream of making. Despite a high school graduation being a once in a lifetime milestone achievement, Adams will be available for the Red Bulls this Saturday.

It was not a decision Adams took lightly.

“Having the opportunity to walk across that stage with all the friends that I started elementary school with, to miss something like that is tough,” Adams said in a story from NJ.com. “But I know that I have a path that I want to cement for myself, and that’s going to be coming from one of these games like this.”------

I can't say that I know much about MLS soccer, but I do know this - Tyler Adams has absolutely earned the diploma that he will be too busy playing a professional sport to receive in person. Nothing proves a person's level of intelligence quite like knowing when to tell white lies, and that's exactly what he did by stating that skipping his high school graduation was a tough decision. Credit to him for saying exactly what his parents wanted to hear, but at no point was enduring far too many familiar, monotonous speeches while waiting far too long just to walk across a goddamn stage in front of people he undoubtedly can't wait to forget about a legitimate threat to his playing status.

Never mind the fact that a high school diploma is the bare minimum in terms of lifetime milestones, because the opportunity to stunt on every one of his classmates by forcing them to talk about the actual lifetime milestone he was elsewhere achieving is an opportunity that would have had him absent regardless of their schedule. You know what's better than walking with the friends that you started elementary school with? Reminding them that - relative to you - they are all losers. Tyler Adams isn't skipping some symbolic stroll into adulthood because one game during his rookie season is going to cement his legacy. He's skipping it because ever person that asks "where's Ty?" will spark another conversation about how Ty is killin' the game. Well, that and playing soccer is far more entertaining than trying to fight of a nap while listening to a bunch of teachers that are desperate for second hand pride try to convince you that not getting held back in high school is actually impressive.

In no way do I agree with Grayson Murray's black-and-mostly white opinion on the state of totalllllly non-existent discrimination in the police force. I don't spend anywhere near enough time wandering the oh-so-fairways where this type of innuendo was reinforced via interactions with his extremely diverse and cultured peers on the greens of 'Pleasantville'.

I just think that if given his name, profession, and the picture above, I probably could have typed out - almost word for word - what his thoughts were on the matter. The cliched narratives and baseless, context-free arguments used to completely marginalize the plight of African Americans while blindly supporting the entirety of a profession that historically has a corruption issue? What better time to put them down on a public platform than immediately after the exoneration of a cop that shot a black man dead in front of his wife and kid for legally carrying a firearm?!?

Those nauseatingly repetitive talking points that used nitpicked numbers and shameless victim blaming to claim that the long standing concept of racial profiling is as real as the "threat" that Trayvon Martin served as don't belong anywhere in society. However, if there were a place where they could feel at home it would be on the Twitter feed of a professional golfer named Grayson who was once forced to play without a tooth, recently fired his caddy mid-round, and has used social media to publicly hit on a naive teenager who quickly learned why he's so detestable...

A post shared by Conor McGregor Official (@thenotoriousmma) on Jun 19, 2017 at 7:02pm PDT

I know I am in the minority here, but I'm rooting for the minority here. I just think Conor McGregor's incessant, over the top trash talk is going to get pretty fucking old as this "fight" grows closer. I love senseless bickering and unsubstantiated machismo as much as the next guy, but it packs a much bigger punch (pun intended) when there's higher than a snow ball's chance in hell that it gets validated. I get that most people are on the side of the self absorbed loudmouth that stands just north of virtually no shot whatso-fucking-ever of beating the wealthier, more accomplished self absorbed loudmouth. I just really don't know if I can take two months worth of potshots seriously when they come from a guy whose dream sequence of a mural could come to fruition and he would still probably lose.

Honestly, Conor McGregor could catch Floyd Mayweather clean across the jaw (as pictured) and it would probably go down as nothing more than one punch landed on the scorecard that was immediately responded to with a quick 20 jab combo that had it's recipient looking like he took a full bottle of Jameson off the forehead. All due respect to the artist, but it's for that reason - and that reason only - that I am having a tough time keeping my eyes from traveling up into my head and right back down in response to thee most lifelike portrayal of a chin check that is more than more than likely never going to take place. I don't need (or want, for that matter) athletes in combats sports to turn humble because then this fight would offer almost nothing in terms of entertainment, but the grossness with which the wall of that training facility misrepresents the upcoming fight is almost too egregious to laugh at. Plus, I'm pretty sure 'Benjamin Moore' would have donated those cans of paint to literally any respectable cause if they knew they were going to be wasted on something that needed to be quickly coated over come August 27th.

I'm not going to beat around the bush that my ball is constantly lost in. It was tough to watch Justin Thomas casually line up perpendicular to the hole and hit the ball with the confidence of Rory McIlroy playing putt-putt. I mean, I was over here thinking that my inability to drive straight, chip with any consistency or accuracy, and rock bright pink pants that could be seen from space were the only things holding me back from finishing in double digits, but apparently a lack of testosterone can be added to the list.

Simply put, it takes balls to intentionally shoot away from the green. I don't care how many times he got on bended knee to accurately judge the break. The ghost of Arnold Palmer could have been whispering tips into my ear and I would have been singing "LALALALA" as loud as I could to drown him out, because there's no way I would have risked making myself look stupid. That could have been the most honest lie in the history of world, and I still would had my ball traveling seven feet east of the hole after refusing to take it at face value. I guess it's not surprising that having an unquestioned belief in one's eyes and hand-eye coordination makes a good golfer, but I never thought I would see the day where I would argue that having testicles that tickle the grass was something integral in picking up that seemingly unattainable thing they call a 'birdie'. I guess I just had to witness a professional golfer sink a long one while looking like a blind person to the untrained eye before I did.

You know - in slight defense of the guy that got his ass bullied around the ring by a bored, out of shape boxer - the old "I even beat him when I sucked" analysis can be flawed. The transitive property of defeat doesn't hold up in professional athletics because styles and favorable match-ups can come into play - especially in a sport where having a chance can be predicated on a single punch.

Unfortunately for Conor McGregor, his fight against Floyd Mayweather is not remotely close to being considered professional athletics. This isn't even a sporting event. It's a fundraiser for two millionaires that's being poorly disguised as a publicity stunt. Mayweather is basically going head-to-head (for hundreds of millions of dollars) with a heavy bag that talks shit when you hit it like it's an Irish, x-rated children's toy. Floyd could have an epileptic seizure during the first round and he would probably still be able to shake the subpar punches of an MMA fighter masquerading as a boxer for an egregious sum of money.

Now, I'm obviously still going to begrudgingly tune it. Not only because repetitive baseball highlights will have me starved for even the most non-competitive competition by late August, but because I can't hypocritically skip out on predetermined entertainment having just spent two months watching the NBA Playoffs. The pageantry of this circus alone will be more than enough to cover the cost of the PayPerView. That doesn't mean I won't hate myself for purchasing it after the fact, but that sense of self loathinfg will will be worth it to see just how eye-openingly lopsided a boxing match can be between the best, most technically sound boxer of a generation and someone whose technique appears to be that of the loudmouth drunk slurring his words from the end of the bar.

BBC- An Argentine football player has caused outrage after admitting that he used a needle to hurt his rivals during a cup match on Sunday.

Federico Allende, a defender for lower-division club Sport Pacifico, bragged in a radio interview about using the needle several times against strikers from top-division club Estudiantes.

Pacifico's president Hector Moncada vowed to expel the player. "We are devastated. This incident has tarnished the team's good work. I will expel him from the club," Mr Moncada told Clarín newspaper.

Pacifico won the match 3-2, knocking Estudiantes out of the competition in a major upset.

Allende gave Cordoba's Vorterix Radio an interview on Tuesday in which he said "you need to play dirty" to beat big clubs like Estudiantes de La Plata.

"I kept piercing the Estudiantes strikers with a needle," said the Pacifico defender.

"We know that top division players don't like contact, they don't like if we waste time or if we play dirty. So that was the way to do it. Football is like that. Football is for the clever," Allende said.

South American football expert Tim Vickery told the BBC that Allende had hidden two needles in his shin guards. One broke but, when the referee was at the other end of the field, Allende used the other to poke Colombian striker Juan Otero several times.

Allende said on the radio: "I completely nullified Otero. He must hate me."

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Was that wrong? Was Federico Allende not supposed to steal supplies from his grandmother's sewing kit in hopes of invoking some fairly common fear of needles from his opponent during a competitive sporting event? I know here in the states we frown upon intimidating the opposition by piercing them away from the play, but - considering how proudly he spoke about his on-pitch tailor work - I think Federico Allende is going to have to claim ignorance on this one. No man in their right mind would be that forthcoming about something that is so obviously wrong unless they were completely unaware, so I think I am going to have to pin this on the coach for not making himself more clear when he told his players to "get under their skin".

In all seriousness, this is a move that could work out in favor of Federico Allende assuming that whole expulsion business is temporary. Clearly he doesn't mind being thought of as soccer's version of Sid from 'Toy Story', and that reputation could certainly bide him some possession time. If you're crazy enough to stab someone during a soccer game once then you're damn sure crazy enough to do it again. Don't think that's not something that would be running through the mind of every single striker that meandered their way onto his side of the field. You don't open your ear up to Mike Tyson, you don't spread your legs around Draymond Green, and you don't challenge Federico Allende within a one arm radius. He may never stash another needle in his shin guard for the rest of his career (on the off-chance that he still has one), but the message he literally and figuratively sent by doing it the first time is one with staying power. Human embroidery might cross the line of what is considered gamesmanship, but it's not something that's easily forgotten.

“Since I’m old, instead of taking the booing, what I want to tell you is like, I’m doing the very best I can. If you’re a real fan, you know that I’m not just like…my job is not to sign autographs, right? My job is to drive a car and to tell the crew chief what’s going on. I don’t appreciate the booing. It hurts my feelings. I’m a [expletive] person, you know what I mean? I’m a person, too. I have feelings. When you boo me, it hurts my feelings. Okay? Please just be supportive fans. I’ll do everything I can.”

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Danica Patrick, a woman of many hats. A professional race car driver, an adult, and - most importantly - a fucking person. Jeez, it's a wonder she even found the time to lecture some overanxious and entitled fans for engaging in the most harmless, run-of-the-mill heckle with how many roles she's filling as the living, breathing, of-age operator of a high speed motor vehicle! Seriously, who do these NASCAR fans think they are? How the hell is the preeminent female athlete in all of racing supposed to clear enough of her schedule to sign an autograph or two when she already has to devote what little downtime she does have to explaining why she's not required to sign an autograph or two?

Can't we just leave her poor feelings alone so that she doesn't have to waste precious minutes publicly speaking on their behalf? If she were young it would be one thing, but everyone knows that with age comes the incessant need to be unconditionally loved by even the most needy, selfish, and simple minded of people at all times! With each passing day I totalllllly find myself more and more concerned with the thoughts and opinions of complete strangers, so I can definitely see why Danica Patrick couldn't just brush it off and go about her business (that she seemed rather quick to state the importance of) once a single person said "boo". Some might call this reactionary dissertation a sign of oversensitivity, but they simply don't know what it's like to a public figu...I mean....person...or something like that...

A post shared by SportsCenter (@sportscenter) on Jun 7, 2017 at 2:24pm PDT

​“Now, I’ll be 100 percent honest with you. These guys out here are absolutely the best athletes on Earth. I don’t care about the NBA Finals, I don’t care about football. These guys are professional athletes in everything.

“Thank God that I got this win. Thank you Lord for the glory in that. Me, personally, I’m just out here having fun. I had pneumonia a couple weeks ago, I wasn’t supposed to be here. I’ve had people praying for me. This is for everybody in Pine Hills, Florida. My coach was a dentist. Nobody believed I was supposed to make it. My swing is ugly. I got a hitch like Charles Barkley. My coach is a dentist. I wasn’t supposed to make it, but by the grace of God, I am here and I’m gonna keep going. I’m gonna keep going for the people who have no voice. That’s why I’m here.”

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Talk about playing to an audience. I mean - despite the claim of 100% honesty - I have very little doubt that Maurice Allen didn't believe a damn word he just said about athletes that are physically more gifted in everything other than hitting a small ball a long way, but you know who kinda, sorta did? The heavily tanned, mildly overweight white dudes that served as his welcoming congregation. There is at least a handful of them that fell for that wrestling promo and believe they are 100 or so yards on their drive away from claiming the title of 'Best Athlete On The Planet' away from LeBron James.

Hell, why wouldn't they? Even the African American guy on the course said it was true! If Maurice Allen's black ass doesn't care about the freakish specimens (that could jump clear over every long driver in the competition) participating in the NBA Finals then why should the guys that only go to the gym to scope out trainers and air dry their testicles? He just became their source when they start this very same stupid argument with others by saying "well, my one black friend thinks...", and that's all they really needed to legitimize their decision to hit the country club multiple times per week.

WOWT- Mili Hernandez is 8 years-old. She loves soccer - and her short haircut.Mili told WOWT 6 News: "When my hair starts to grow I put it short because I've always had short hair. I didn't like my hair long."

Mili plays soccer for Omaha's Azzuri Cachorros girls club team. She's so good that she plays on the 11 year-old roster even though she's 8. Her father, Gerardo Hernandez, couldn't be more proud. He told WOWT 6 News: "It's what she likes. It's what she always wants to do - play soccer."

This weekend Mili helped lead her team to the final day of the Springfield Soccer Club girls tournament. However, before taking the field on Sunday, Mili and her team were suddenly disqualified. Springfield soccer organizers insisted Mili was a boy.

Mili added: "Just because I look like a boy doesn't mean I am a boy. They don't have a reason to kick the whole club out."

Mili's family claims they showed her insurance card to tournament organizers in an effort to prove she's a girl. It wasn't enough.

Mili's brother, Cruz Hernandez, told WOWT 6 News: "They didn't want to listen. They said the president made his decision and there wasn't any changing that."

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Middle America, for the loss! I suppose assuming that more...um...understanding regions of the country aren't capable of mistaking a short haired girl as a boy based on looks alone is a dangerous proposition. However, being presented with official documentation and responding by essentially saying "uhh, we know the difference between boys and girls, idiots!" just seems very characteristic of the type of person walking around town with a piece of straw sticking from their mouth.

Like, if this happened in the Northeast then some organizer easily would have let a 'Jawanna Man' situation take place just to avoid being taken to task over gender generalizations. If this had happened in California the tournament officials would have been like "you are whatever you say/think/or believe you are". In Nebraska, on the other hand, even children have to check all the stereotypical boxes of their birth sex or not even a government issued identification can save them from being put in a gender specific box. I don't mean to say that every person whose residence is commonly flown over doesn't realize that every little girl isn't running around with hair half way down her back while wearing a shin-length dress, but it's certainly a viewpoint that is more likely to be held in the heartland.

AwfulAnnouncing- One of the most blatantly inappropriate behaviors from an interviewed player in some time came at tennis’ French Open Monday, where 21-year-old French player Maxime Hamou grabbed Eurosport reporter Maly Thomas while she was trying to interview him and started kissing her head. Hamou was already out of the tournament after losing 6-3, 6-2, 6-4 in the first round to Uruguay’s Pablo Cuevas, but Tuesday saw the French tennis federation announce that his accreditation for the rest of the event was revoked following his “reprehensible behavior.”

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I know it's exceedingly dangerous to think everyone is on the same page in regards to any potentially inappropriate act in the year 2017, but I think anyone of sound mind with even the slightest of interests in equal rights can agree that this was not okay. I don't want to paint with a too broad of a brush here, but kissing anyone anywhere without their consent is usually not going to work out in your favor. Never mind when you do so multiple times in under a minute while "working" in a professional capacity.

Maxime Hamou legit had the look of a guy that presumptuously sauntered up behind an unsuspecting freshman at a frat house, and he did so on television in broad day light. To be that tone deaf, disrespectful, and threatening almost requires an amount of intoxication that one can only find at the bottom of a bowl of grain alcohol-infused punch. I almost hope that the handsy 21 year old is a lush that tried to drown his disappointment in the liquor of his choice, because it that's how he acts while sober then he's going to a be red dot on a computer screen before he's even old enough to rent a car. As someone that didn't understand a single word that was said during that "interview" I don't want to tell the French tennis federation how to handle their business, but they probably should have scheduled their boy for about a dozen workplace harassment seminaries while revoking his accreditation for putting a reporter in an aggressive, sexually charged head lock.

FoxBusiness- Pro golfer Tiger Woods disclosed to the Jupiter Police Department a variety of prescription drugs that he may have taken after he was arrested for a DUI while asleep at the wheel of his car.

In the probable cause affidavit, first obtained by The Palm Beach Post, Woods said he has prescriptions for four drugs, Soloxex, Vicodin and Torix. He also listed an anti-inflammatory drug Vioxx, but noted he had not taken the drug in over a year. Vioxx, which was manufactured by Merck (NYSE:MRK), was pulled off the market nearly 13 years ago after allegedly being linked to cardiovascular issues.

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Whew, here I was thinking that Tiger Woods knew the danger he could have been to other drivers when he got behind the wheel, but nope - he just had an inexplicably bad reaction to a handful of pills that undoubtedly resembled the prescription equivalent of a mixed bag of Skittles. What a relief that it wasn't alcohol that was that was to blame! Those gosh darn side effects. You just never know when they are going to creep up and bite you in the ass at the worst possible time. Especially when there's three (maybe 4, but who is counting?) different lists of them that could come into play to counteract each other. I mean, seriously....who would have guessed that taking multiple painkillers would leave someone woozy and at risk of an untimely nap?

Jeez, now that I know that Tiger Woods didn't negligently wash down his drug cocktail with a beer I almost sort of feel bad for him. He's not a criminal that knowingly swallowed a pharmacy before hopping in what basically amounted to a high velocity death contraption. He's just a victim of modern medicine and the problems that result when you try to talk advantage of everything it has to offer....at the same damn time. Poor guy. There better be some doctor out there that loses it's license after such a gross act of treating an adult like responsible adult. Someone needs to admit fault, and I'll be damned if it should be the guy that left the house looking like he either got repeatedly hit over the head with a bottle of one of the only substances not in his system or fell victim to another golf club.

​I honestly must have screamed "stop the damn fight!" like 3-4 times before the official felt it necessary to intervene in the defenseless beating of this teenager's face. If that doesn't prove to you just how cold and heartless Mother Russia can be then the much more literal example of an actual Mother from Russia slapping her 100% concussed kid upside the head should do the trick. Putin may have inspired a type of love that comes a little tougher, but I'm pretty sure that poor bastard had already begun the initial stages of CTE before the lady that brought him into this world did her part to take him out of it ASAP. Never mind adding insult to injury, this crazy broad subtracted years from his life span.

As if bleeding from 3-5 different parts of his face wasn't enough of a shot to the ego, now this guy has to build his self esteem back up after catching an openhanded left from his own damn mother in front of an audience. I guess the good news is that he'll really know that he wants to be an MMA fighter if he's able to get back in the octagon after suffering that all out embarrassment. The bad news, on the other hand, is that he'll have to find a new striking coach following the inter-household homicide that's going to leave his current one buried in the backyard.

However this shakes out, I think we can all agree to hide this story from your local baseball parent that's known to drag his kid off the field by his ear following a strikeout, because lord knows he would feel like Phil goddamn Dunphy by comparison.

You're not going to find me claiming that body shaming isn't a very prevalent issue in society. That's partially because it's quite obviously something that effects many people, but it's mostly because I am not sure I could handle the emasculation if Aly Raisman challenged me to an arm wrestling competition for saying it's not.

That being said, I think we should consider the context of this rude interaction between an Olympian gymnast and a TSA agent before we rush to judgement. I don't want to make it sound like those who are held responsible for vetting every irritable commuter during the most annoying part of their trip should be given free reign to be an objectionable asshole, but I definitely understand why they tend to be. I hardly even want to talk to myself when going through the process of boarding a flight, never mind talking to every self-important person that (understandably) thinks their time is more valuable than that of everyone else. That's why I have let it slide every time my intelligence has been insulted after saying "what?" to someone that is already occupationally obligated to repeat themselves hundreds of times per shift.

Now, I clearly can't imagine what it's like for Aly Raisman to be viewed as weak simply because she's a woman when she's undeniably stronger than a significant number of men. I'm sure it happens far more often than we'd like to believe. I just can't - in good conscience - treat it as an all-encompassing indictment of society at large when the guilty party is someone that has to feel up pissed off passengers of every shape, size, and undoubtedly dim demeanor all damn day. I don't personally know the guy manning security at whatever terminal she was flying out of and he may very well be a sexist prick, but the possibility that a long day of being fake nice to testy travelers simply took it's toll on his attitude absolutely exists.